


Rage, Rage, Against the Dying of the Light

by NerdsLikeUs



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Episode Related, Gen, multiple - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7041541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdsLikeUs/pseuds/NerdsLikeUs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Do not go gentle into that good night,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.</em>
</p>
<p>Snippets of Morgana's POV across the seasons, at important moments in her storyline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rage, Rage, Against the Dying of the Light

She sits by the boy, touches his cheek. It burns.  
She has never felt affection like this. Not with Arthur, not with Uther, not even with Gwen. She is connected to him, and he to her, their lives two drops that have formed a tear.  
She tends to him, cares for him, as she has always been cared for. Loves him as she wished she had been loved.  
With no reservations she risks it all for him, her life and her people and her place. Uther grips her throat and speaks to her as she has never been spoken to, and she feels something in her break.  
Then he is gone, and though it means he is safe she feels half of her heart go with him.  
She sits by the place where he lay, touches the cloth. It is cold.

She stands at the window, heart full of worry.  
Sunlight through glass, warm on fearful skin.  
She is silent as ice, heart burning. Her fault her fault her fault.  
She is the mother, the wife, the sister, the woman who stays and and waits and worries.  
Couldn’t she be more?  
Arthur’s voice. She turns.  
Gwen, safe and scarred.  
She hugs her, laughing and crying and loving. She holds her and holds her, knowing she is not alone.  
She stands at the window, heart full of happiness.

She walks down the halls, dress billowing. She passes people and windows and silence.  
Cold eyes, cold heart. Sunlight piercing skin.  
She passes Arthur. He nods, solemn, and she puts on her mask. Smiling, sympathetic eyes. Open.   
She passes Gwen. Smiling, again. Glasped hand in passing. The girl smiles too, bobs in a bow, and continues on. She continues on.  
She passes Merlin. Eyes meet, both hiding secrets. Both wearing masks. Her mouth keeps smiling, but her eyes turn dark. He sees, and is afraid. She glows.  
She walks down the halls, there but not there. She is confidant in her place, sure in her step, because knows she is not where she belongs.

She sits on her throne, at last, at last.  
Crown on her head, sister at her side, men at her feet. She is now, finally, something more.  
She has become.  
They fight her, as she knew they would. She stands where Uther had stood, brings her hand down as Uther did, kills innocents just as Uther had done.  
Deep in her hardened heart, she falters. Who has she become?  
Screams bring her back. Her lips are red, colour of royalty, colour of blood. They smile.  
But then the others return. They tear the crown off her head, slay the sister from her side, raise the men from her feet. Pull her down from her throne.  
She sits in the dark, alone, alone.

Then the boy is there, and though he quiet literally stabbed her in the back, she is glad.  
He is changed, grown, but his eyes are the same ones that looked at her all that time ago. She is a different person now, living in a different world, but she looks into his eyes and wishes she could drown in who she used to be.  
She puts on her mask, lets the hatred fill her features. It is easy now, even comfortable, to let the rage take hold. Better that than feel.  
He tells her he wishes she could find the kindness and compassion that used to fill her heart.  
In her shock, her mask slips. Like an arrow pulled from the chest, his words bring forth an open wound. For a moment, she remembers the love she once felt, the burning passion for goodness and justice. For a moment, she aches and wants to cry.  
Then the boy is gone, and though he made her feel some terrible things, she is sad.

When she sees him, the rage and hatred and pain flood through her as easily as blood.  
It is just a stone, but in it she sees her whole shattered world. It is his fault, she knows, the loss of her loving heart. It was because of him that she never had the life she deserved.  
Although her fire burns ever stronger, she has a sense that her story is winding to its end. Instead of peace, this thought brings her even more anger, and she clings tightly to her life, ruined as it is.  
She fights him, fueled by her desperation for life.   
One more moment, and perhaps she can try again.  
She will not go quietly. She will not stand this injustice.  
But, she loses.   
In her last breath, she wonders why.   
When she sees him, the rage and hatred and pain flow out of her as quickly as her blood.

She fades.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I wrote this in a bit of a whirlwind after a Merlin binge. Too many Morgana feels.  
> As always, I don't have a beta, but I love to hear feedback :) Title and description from the poem by Dylan Thomas.


End file.
